Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Every genre of film has its presets of
expectations. If it's a Western film, you expect dusty landscapes and
dirty cowboys. If it's a Horror film, you expect some amount of
screaming, blood and at least one false scare. If it's a love story,
then you expect romantic pathos and a boy and a girl to meet and fall
in forever, soulmate-esque love in spite of a few dramatic
interruptions. Etc etc. All of this is why I love it when a filmmaker
can take these little category boxes of film, wield a boxcutter to a
bunch of them and then with some duct tape, construct something
actually quite fresh and different. With this build up, you may not
expect that the film I am segueing to is Jorg Buttgereit's sequel to
his underground dark comedy/horror film, Nekromantik, but segueing I
am! (Of course if you actually read the title to this article, then
you already knew where I was going with all of this.
In that case, never mind.)

Sequels
are generally a bit of a creative gamble. Is it a crude way to lure
in the rubes? Sure, if the minds behind it are bankrupt. A truly good
and worthy sequel is one that can use all of the right elements from
the first film and utilize that as a template to build a better
garden. With a brilliant and fun director like Buttgereit at the helm
once again, Nekromantik 2 is a fascinating film intertwined with one
of the strangest love stories ever told.

The
quote of “I just want to master life & death, ” courtesy of
Theodore R. Bundy, better known as Ted Bundy, one of the most
infamous serial killers from the past forty years, begins the first
frame, right before a flashback to Rob's (Daktari Lorenz) climactic
(literally and metaphorically) hari kiri scene from the first film.
Nekromantik 2 truly begins with a stylishly dressed and slightly
nervous looking young woman walking around a cemetery near a bombed
out looking building. The deeper she goes, the more lush the
vegetation grows, until she ends up in a more secluded section where
Rob is buried. In some perfect cosmic kismet, the first film's
death-obsessed protagonist ends up being dug up by a lovely lady with
similar post-living obsessions!

Digging
him up, she's able to move his corpse into her extremely colorful and
tidy apartment. The grotto-grunge of Rob's apartment from the first
film is replaced by clean, sunny walls and modern, neat-looking
furniture. Jars of assorted body parts/mementos from Rob's dayjob are
now an assortment of skull centric paintings and medical x-rays used
as art as décor. The red haired woman, Monika (Monika M.), lays his
body out and kisses him wetly with some tentativeness and a lot of
barely held back erotic charge, before she begins to undress him.
Meanwhile, we also meet Mark (Mark Reeder), a lanky looking young man
on his way to his dayjob of dubbing over rangy-looking porn.

The
dreamy edging into psychedelic camerawork that marked all of the love
scenes from the first Nekromantik starts to return as Monika attempts
to make love to Rob's blackened-by-rot form, but coitus interruptus
arises as she physically gets ill and cannot resume the lovemaking.
In short, Monika has the heart and drive for sexually loving the
dead, but not quite the stomach. There's something about Rob, though,
that makes her clean up his body, with her red lacquered nails
tenderly touching the imprint of his fatal gut wound and dress him in
fresh clothes. As Mark tries to plan a film date with an eternally
tardy friend of his, Monika poses with Rob for her Polaroid with a
self-timer, grinning like a new girl smitten with amour.

But
life's strange glory comes into play yet again, when Monika happens
to walk by the Sputnik Theater where Mark is waiting for his date.
Impatient, he chats her up and offers Monika the spare ticket. Going
to watch some bizarro world version of “My Dinner with Andre,”
entitled “Mon Dejeuner avec Vera” (aka “My Lunch with Vera”),
that consists of a highly chatty man and a less chatty woman,
completely naked and eating eggs, Monika and Mark quickly hit it off.
Soon, Monika will face the weirdest case of being “torn between two
lovers” ever, only to be outdone by one hilarious and volatile
resolution.

"Nekromantik
2" is a an intriguing and worthy sequel to its infamous and well made
progenitor. The fact that Buttgereit switched the focus from a
heart-sick and head-sick young man in the form of Rob, to the
love-sick and balanced-in-her-own-strange-way, Monika, is unexpected
and really smart. The eroto-death factor is still there, but with
Monika, her own flesh won't allow her to do what her heart wants to.
Even more intriguing is when she tries to dispose of Rob as she and
Mark start to get more serious, Monika grows emotional and keeps
Rob's head and genitals. (The latter comes into play with some great
twisted humor, as she puts it on a plate, wraps it in plastic and
places the severed member in her fridge like well-loved leftovers.
Which is pretty fitting, now that I think of it!)

Monika
is an unusually complex character, especially for being a woman. In
the cinematic landscape, whether we're talking mainstream pap or
underground DIY, women are more of than not, relegated to ether
bitch, sex/brain starved nymphet-nympho, frumpy friend or Holly
Sunshine: Pretty Girl Worthy of Love. So to see a female lead chase
her heart and desires that play far outside the boundaries of what is
“normal” (or legal for that matter), is pretty great. Especially
as her relationship with Mark starts to show more cracks, with him
unable to give her any sort of climax, Monika is forced to feed her
need. Granted, I'm not saying “Ladies, start digging up your
soulmate!” or anything, but there is an undercurrent of affection
and respect for this character that is refreshing. Monika M. is
likable as the lovely and chic girl with the strangest desires of
profound morbidity. There is an understatedness to her performance
that works quite well and helps keep the film anchored in an even
keel.

The
filmmaking quotient is even better here, with Nekromantik 2 featuring
more of budget with the former's 8mm format being replaced with a
more glossy looking 16mm print. That may sound like a sell-out to a
less-slackful underground film fan, but given that the plot is more
of a love story, a fact even mentioned by Buttgereit himself in the
intro to the lovely Cult Epics blu-ray release, it makes more sense
for it visually to look bright and crisp. The first film was more of
a tonally extreme film, so the 8mm format was perfect for it. The
camerawork and editing are even tighter, with some especially great
use of movement in the “hunt for Rob” cemetery sequence near the
beginning. One big link between the two films is the amazing
soundtrack, featuring more stellar work courtesy of Herman Kopp and
“John Boy Walton,” both returning from the first film. The fact
that such beautifully composed music is intertwined with a film about
necrophilia is all sorts of subversive sweetness.

Speaking
of great music, one of my personal favorite scenes is the musical
number that seemingly pops out of nowhere with Monika singing
“Squelette Délicieux” like a post-modern Zarah Leander. The fact
that the title loosely translates to, “Delicious Skeleton,” makes
me love this scene all the more. Beatrice M.'s cameo (Betty from the
original Nekromantik) is also a hoot.

It's
that combination of humor, heart and a willingness to explore
transgressive imagery and taboo topics that sear Nekromantik 2 into
the minds of any viewer worth his or her salt. There's still a bit of
the requisite gore and animal death, though neither are quite as
heightened as they were in the first. (A warning to the squeamish,
the animal footage involves Monika and her lady-gang of death-loving
friends watching footage of a dead seal getting dissected. It's
really gross but given that the animal was already dead and the video
in question looks clinical in nature, it is still a far cry from the
cruelty-tango of the Italian cannibal films of the 70's.)

It is
inconceivable to think that out of the two Nekromantik films, this
was the one that was quickly seized by German authorities, just a
mere 12 days after its initial release. To the extent that they even
attempted, and mercifully failed, to find and destroy that actual
negative. The reasoning? It allegedly “glorified violence.” Never
mind that the first one had more violence or even worse, the numerous
Hollywood action films that were more inherently immoral in their
revery of death and maiming. Especially coming off the heels of the
80's, where people were consistently being used as pure blow-up
fodder for the beefy, gun wielding hero du jour. Case in point: Which
film has a higher body count? Nekromantik 2 or any of the Rambo
films? Exactly.

Luckily
for us, Nekromantik 2 is still here and is out via another gorgeous
blu ray release from Cult Epics. If there's a supplement you would
want, this film has it, from director commentary to a
behind-the-scenes-featurette to trailers and even a moment of silence
via a home video peek into Jorg and friends' road trip to Ed Gein's
gravesite. This whole release is a fitting tribute to a great film
and director.

Nekromantik
2 is further proof that out of the unholy hordes of indie filmmakers
that emerged out of the 1980's, few are true auteurs like Buttgereit.
There was and is no director out in the cinematic landscape quite
like him. Even if 8,000 foolhards tried to imitate him, they would
fail because a real artist has their own unique fingerprint and that
is Jorg Buttgereit all the way.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

There were few sanctuaries as enticing
growing up as the library. Stuck in a small working class burg and
feeling like I was destined for pariah-kid-stasis, the library was an
oasis that held many secrets, wonders and, most importantly, methods
of escape. It still holds a bit of that power for me today,
especially when it comes to glancing around and scoping out the
variety of materials. Sleek tomes and colorful paper magazines lining
up in a pristine formation and awaiting your eyes and hands.

The section that always pulls me first
is the new fiction. There's the usual mix of chick-lit,
science-fiction, historical dramas, something with a fantastical
dwarf on it and some tawdry knock off of “Fifty Shades of Grey.”
(Go ahead and feel free to channel your inner Kurtz here and go
“...the horror....the horror.”) One of those tomes could very
well be “The Hunt” by Brad Stevens. Brad first entered my
stratosphere with his excellent work in the film writing world,
including articles for my old periodical stomping grounds at Video
Watchdog and his Bradlands column over at the British Film
Institute's (BFI) website. “The Hunt” is his first fictive book
and stands out as a unique debut. “The Hunt” centers around Mara
Gorki, a writer whose work is massively successful overseas but is
restricted in her homeland, which is a dystopian United Kingdom where
women are treated like second to seventy first class citizens in
every conceivable way.

The hostile atmosphere includes the
legally imposed dress code of no pants or shorts for women over the
age of 18, including corporal punishment via caning if broken to the
rabid verbal abuse from various men of the cloth. However, the capper
being the titular “Hunt” itself. Basically, a handful of very
wealthy “gentlemen” pay for the privilege to hunt for women in an
abandoned section of the city that has been quartered off by the
government. As opposed to that old chestnut, “The Most Dangerous
Game,” instead of hunting to kill, these men like their kicks on
the sexual-sadistic side and track down these women, who are all
drafted in by the government. There are rules, included intentional
murder being one of the few actual taboos, but in a near future where
women are basically regarded as mentally stunted vessels for the
anger and damaged id impulse of key men who have been rewarded for
their misogyny as opposed to being educated against it, things get on
the vile side fairly quickly. It's a lesson that Mara learns
intimately when she ends up being recruited.

Now from that description and those
similar to it that you can read elsewhere online, you might be
getting images of some ghastly Eli Roth film meets “A Handmaid's
Tale.” The latter is somewhat close to the mark but you can
mercifully kill the former. While Steven's does not pull any punches
when it comes to the specifics of torture, his language neither
lingers or delights in it. His prose in general is very clean, neatly
written and yet has a quiet warmth and pulse to it that makes it all
the more compelling. It's an unusual mix to see that kind of writing
when it comes to such extreme material. The common tendency is to
glory in the guts and agony and have the prose practically wiggle
with every shriek, moan, leer and scream. But that is not the
literary voice here and it is Stevens' restraint coupled with his
clear love of his female characters, especially Mara and her partner,
cineaste and film writer, Yuki Morishita. (A relationship the two
naturally have to keep secret, since homosexuality is also
forbidden.)

Speaking of, his handling of Yuki and
Mara's relationship is quite sweet and feels authentic. “The Hunt”
also features some extreme snarking on E.L. James fan fiction gone
awry, “Fifty Shades of Grey.” As a whole it's a disturbing and
smart read with solid characters, a bit of conspiracy theory and a
peek into a future that doesn't feel too unreal whenever you see
another news story about women all over the world having acid thrown
into their faces, murdered for being a victim of rape or being robbed
of the choice to be in control of their own body.

Now that you have a book picked
out, you gotta have a magazine to go with it. With its striking cover
and lush formatting, the second issue of the brand new periodical,
Art Decades, is a fine choice. After its strong debut issue, Issue 2
continues in the fine tradition of loving art, unearthing past
artists and celebrating the ones that are currently creating. The
starting gate lets you know that the contents are gonna be good, with
the following Joe Strummer quote taking the helm: “The way you get
a better world is, you don't put up with a substandard any thing.”
It's a bold move from such a young mag but bold is good and it sure
as hell is better than boring.

The first main article is an excellent
piece by Tara Hanks entitled “Pauline Boty: Pop Artist &
Woman.” It's such a strong piece, offering fascinating and needed
insight into one of the most under-looked pop artists that emerged
out of the 50's and 60's. Boty was hampered by her gender, since
while the art world is still fairly male dominated now, it is still
miles ahead from the uber-macho atmosphere back when she was alive
and working. Dying at the young age of 28 did not help much either.
On top of that, knowing that several of her works are still missing
in action, makes pieces like this one so important. A good article is
a fun way to kill some time but a great article is one that plants a
seed.

After that, there's the gorgeous photo
layout, “My Time's Up,” based om The Raveonettes song of the same
name. With photographer Whitly Brandenburg serving as the melancholy
model backed by the twin muses of the aforementioned song and Jean
Rollin's film “The Iron Rose,” it is one of the most standout
visuals of the entire issue. Photographers Jeremy and Kelley Richey
make great and dreamy use of the cemetery locale, as well as
Brandenburg herself, whose presence has all the childlike beauty of a
doll but with the air of one who has seen and felt something far
older than her physical age.

Speaking of The Raveonettes, if you're
a fan of the Danish indie rock band, then you are going to l-o-v-e
this issue, since the “Time's Up” spread is followed up with an
in depth interview with the band, a small article from Kelley about
being a fan, a piece covering their entire discography and yet
another photo spread inspired by one on their songs. The latter is
based on the song, “Boys Who Rape Should All Be Destroyed.” (Love
the title and feels fitting after reading “The Hunt!”) The layout
itself is very nicely photographed but lacks the gritty gut punch
that one would expect, especially with having influences like Abel
Ferrara and “Lipstick” director Lamont Johnson noted at the
beginning. But just the mere fact that a layout exists entitled “Boys
Who Rape Should All be Destroyed” exists and is in this issue is
commendable in and of itself.

There's also a second part of Erich
Kuersten's piece, “Lou Reed in the Seventies.” (The first part is
in the debut of Art Decades, naturally.) It's a fun piece to read
with a Gonzo lilt, even though I have some personal disagreements.
(Giving “Metal Machine Music” one star is bad enough, but Reed's
masterpiece, “The Bells” only meriting two? Two?!) On the film
side of things, there is a brief but super-fun interview with the
great Mary Woronov conducted by Dave Stewart. Ms. Woronov alone is a
legend, but the fact that she name checks one of the most underrated
Warhol's Factory associates, writer Ronald Tavel, makes it even more
of a must read than it already was.

An equally sweet treat is Kent
Adamson's “Cannon Man,” which is his appetizer of a piece about
his time with working for the legendary Menahem Golan, the man, whom
along with his cousin, Yoram Globus, took over Cannon Films in 1979.
It was their reign that produced an amazingly wide breadth of films
ranging from Barbet Schroeder's “Barfly” and the way underrated
“Last American Virgin” to many a vehicle for action stars like
Chuck Norris and Charles Bronson. Adamson's writing pops and leaves
you wanting to read more and more about his time with this truly
unique character who left an undeniable imprint on film.

Back on the musical tip, there's also
filmmaker/writer Salem Kapsaski's revealing and creatively stimulating
interview with underground Italian musician Daniele Santagiuliana, as
well as Steve Langton's terrific and memorable piece about seeing Joy
Division live. (A pleasure so few ever will get to experience.) This
issue also features more stunning imagery, some good poetry and even
more great pieces by such talents as Marcelline Block, Silver Ferox
and more.

Art Decades Issue #2 is a more than a
solid follow up to its rock star debut and has planted seeds, some
definable and others more mysterious, that will surely take some
vivid and colorful bloom in the very near future.

This concludes our brief but hopefully
enriching and teensy bit chewy trip to the library. Make sure to keep
your slip and return the materials on time.